Demise
by Dagibsta
Summary: This is my version of book 4. I have decided to continue it. Lots of ExA!
1. Chapter 1

**Demise**

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><p><strong>Previously in Brisingr:<strong>

_"Eragon lifted Glaedr's Eldunari over his head, presenting it to the sun and the new day, and he smiled, eager for the battles yet to come, so that he and Saphira might finally confront Galbatorix and kill the dark king."_

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><p><strong>Chapter 1: Recovery<strong>

The thin, white clouds raced by, sliced in half by sapphire wings. Flecks of sapphire light were reflected into the air, as Saphira rushed by. Upon her back sat Eragon, a hard look apparent upon his face. Cold wind whistled through his chestnut hair, causing it to whip around wildly.

The pair were silent across their mental connection, instead letting the flow of emotions be a substitute for actual words. For several minutes, they soared through the clear blue sky, with nothing to challenge them.

Grief was obviously etched into Eragon's features as he sat upon his beloved dragon's back. Unbeknownst to most of the Varden, his masters Glaedr and Oromis had been killed only the previous morning. The emotional wounds were still very raw, and Eragon's face showed it.

Finally, Eragon's thoughts broke the silence in the pair's minds. _I miss them_, thought Eragon.

_As do I_, replied Saphira, along with a stream of sadness. _How can we do this without their guidance?_ she asked of herself, while she glided through the thin air.

"One thing, however, is certain," spoke Eragon, a determined tone seeping into his voice like a contagious virus. "We will not be overcome with this grief. We cannot allow their sacrifice to be in vain," he stated simply. Slowly, he began to push the grief down, and the lump in his throat finally began to subside.

After several moments of silence from Saphira, Eragon finally inquired what she was thinking.

_I was thinking that you have grown much from the farm boy in Carvahall_, she replied, allowing pride to seep across their mental link. But now, let us forget these weary thoughts and just enjoy this beautiful day.

And so the pair lapsed into silence, the only sound being the slice of sapphire wings in the frigid air. As they flew, they observed the land below. Small, clear springs wound through vast, untamed grasslands, while a wide plethora of colors dotted the plains as flowers sprung up between the grasses. For an instant, Eragon completely forgot his griefs and troubles, merely appreciating the beauty of nature. His stream of thought was soon interrupted as they flew on.

Soon, the beautiful scenery gave way to desolation and destruction, as the war took its toll upon the land. Countless feet had trampled the wild grasses, and only stumps remained of the massive trees that had once reigned there. Remnants of campfire dotted the landscape, remnants of an army. Following the trail of destruction northwards, it soon became obvious that they were following in the path of a respectable force of warriors.

On the horizon, vast buildings reared into the sky. It seemed immediately clear what the army's destination was: Belatona. Anger surged through Eragon as he was once again reminded of the war. _I will never escape from my responsibilities,_ he thought to himself.

Half an hour later, the pair were flying back to the Varden, back to the horror of war. Once again, Eragon's thoughts strayed to the scene that kept replaying itself over and over in his mind:

"Glaedr felt Zar'roc slash Oromis from shoulder to hip."

And then:

"GONE! Blackness. Emptiness. He was alone."

Fortunately, Saphira interrupted his morbid broodings with a probing question. _Do you blame him?_

Eragon frowned for a moment. _Murtagh?_ he clarified. He pondered for several seconds before responding. _I do not hold him accountable for their deaths. But neither is he innocent._

Pausing to gather his thoughts, he began to expand upon his statement. "Ever since our encounter on the Burning Plains, I have nurtured a hope. Hope that Murtagh could be saved, that we could still save the friendship we once shared. I spoke of this hope to him, that he could change his true name and break the chains that held him bound." Eragon's voice grew softer and softer until it was no louder than a whisper. Finally, his voice descended into silence before transitioning to thought.

_But now I know better. There is no going back._

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><p>Nasuada sat in the keep of Feinster, directly across from Lady Lorana. Thick ropes wound around the woman's wrists, chaining her to the table in front of her. On the opposite side of the oak table, the black skinned leader quietly sat down upon a hard wooden chair and began to drum her fingers against the cold table.<p>

"What shall I do with you?" she muttered, her eyes like daggers upon Lady Lorana. The prisoner shifted uncomfortably in her own seat beneath Nasuada's glare.

"It seems that fate has placed us on opposite side of this war," replied Lorana bravely. "As I told Eragon, I admire your courage, but I cannot help you," she continued. "I was forced to swear oaths to Galbatorix."

Nasuada nodded curtly in response. "I understand," she said. "The real question is, however, did your soldiers?"

Lorana smiled slightly as understanding began to dawn upon her. "You have lived up to your reputation, Lady Nasuada. I do believe that your ideas might just work," she added. She was interrupted when a Nighthawk guard walked into the room and spoke to Nasuada.

"My lady, Rider Eragon has returned and awaits an audience with you," boomed the man.

"Very well. Send him in," she replied before turning to Lorana. "It seems that our time is up. Thank you for cooperation," she said politely, before motioning to her guards, who promptly led Lady Lorana out of the keep. As soon as she was beyond the threshold, Eragon strode into the room. He wore a simple brown tunic, with his messy chestnut hair reaching his eyebrows. Upon his finger lay Aren, and Brisingr was strapped to his hip. His face held no emotions, but his lusterless chocolate eyes showed that there was more going on with his emotions than he allowed to show.

"Greetings, Eragon," she said as he approached her. After he replied in a similar manner, she motioned for him to sit in the chair across the desk from her as she also took a seat in her chair. When they were both seated, she began her inquiry. "What brings you here, Eragon?"

A sigh escaped his lips and his shoulders sagged slightly. "What work would you have me do?" he asked immediately, almost too quickly.

Confusion flashed across Nasuada's face. "Are you sure, Eragon? It has only been a day," she asked.

"That is exactly why I must," explained Eragon exasperatingly. "My masters would be ashamed if I shirked my duties as a Rider." In a quiet voice he added, "And I need to stop thinking about them."

Sympathy welled up inside of Nasuada as she began to understand Eragon's motives. "I understand. There is, in fact, urgent work that needs completing." Before Eragon could question her further, she continued. "Our greatest priority at this point is devising a strategy to separate Galbatorix from his Eldunarya. Yes?" she asked. After a confirmation nod from Eragon, she explained further, "I need you and Arya to devote all of your efforts to this. It is our only hope if we are to defeat the king."

Eragon stood up to leave. "I understand my lady, I will begin immediately." With that, he turned towards the door to leave, but was interrupted by Nasuada once again.

"And Eragon? Please check on Arya. We both know how she reacts to the deaths of loved ones."

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><p>Lost in thought, Eragon traipsed down the streets of Feinster. Metallic blood still coated many of the cobblestones in the streets, giving the world a reddish tinge. Fortunately, all of the corpses had been removed, and were being buried by both Varden and Empire soldiers. However, Eragon paid no attention to the passing gore.<p>

Instead, he focused his attention on what he would say to Arya. He had not seen her since telling her of the Eldunarya the previous evening, and he did not know she was coping with his masters' deaths.

In addition, he did not know where their relationship stood, especially after the embrace they shared in the keep. Eragon had a sneaking suspicion that they had become more than just 'friends.'

Finally, Eragon's feet led him out of Feinster and into the camp of the Varden. A few short minutes later, he stood outside the emerald tent that belonged to Arya.

With an uncertain voice, he called out, "Arya?"

Seconds later, Arya's voice floated out of the tent. "Come in, Eragon," her melodic voice replied. He quickly lifted up the tent flaps and ducked inside.

Arya sat upon a standard cot, facing the opposite side of the tent. "Atra esterni ono thelduin, Arya Shadeslayer," greeted Eragon, touching the first two fingers of his right hand to his lips.

Repeating the gesture, she responded, "Atra du evarinya ono varda, Eragon Shadeslayer," with a slight smirk upon her lips. The smile soon faded as she turned back to facing the opposite wall, clearly intent upon something else.

After several moments of silence, Arya sighed and asked, "What purpose brings you here, Eragon?"

"Nasuada wishes us to immediately begin devising a plan concerning the..." began Eragon before checking for eavesdroppers and continuing in a barely audible whisper, "Eldunarya."

Arya visibly shifted in her position before questioning, "So soon? Not even two days have passed!"

Eragon paused for a moment before responding. He was walking on thin ice, and did not want to damage their friendship further. "Oromis and Glaedr would want us to move on, to fulfill our duties."

Arya nodded sharply and said, "Very well. It is late, so we will begin tomorrow morning. Meet me in front of your tent at dawn."

Eragon nodded his approval, and added in a softer voice, "Arya, are you alright?" As he inspected her more closely, he began to see the dark bags under her eyes and the red rims that encircled her eyes.

"I am fine, Eragon. Now I would ask you to leave. We have a long day in front of us, and we both need our rest," she said coldly. Recognizing the dismissal, Eragon turned and strode from the tent, wondering what he had done to drive her farther away.

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><p><strong>AN: Thanks for the patience. I know I promised this story a while ago, I just haven't had any time. We'll see how far I can get before November 8! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please review!**

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><p><strong>Disclaimer: I do not own the Inheritance Cycle or any of its characters.<strong>


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey guys, thanks to all of you who have followed this story. After several requests, I have decided to continue it. Let me know how you like it!**

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><p>Chapter 2: On the Shores of the Sea<p>

Eragon stood on the Crags of Telnair, confused and uncertain how he had arrived there. After several moments, he merely sat down on the edge of the cliff, content to merely rest and contemplate. The sun had just begun to set, streaking the sky with vibrant hues of pink, orange, and gold, the same hue as Glaedr's scales.

Behind him, a small twig snapped, making almost no noise. However, with his elves abilities, it sounded as loud as a tree crashing down. Within an instant, Eragon was on his feet, facing the direction of the disturbance.

As he watched, a figure began to emerge from the hut. Squinting his eyes, Eragon was shocked to see Oromis emerge from the building. His normally spotless raiment was stained with crimson blood, coming from a slash on his torso, the same injury that had claimed his life.

"Master?" Eragon asked uncertainly, his voice laced with fear and guilt. Oromis merely nodded in response, continuing to approach Eragon.

"How is it that you are here? Murtagh killed you!" Eragon reasoned.

Oromis finally spoke up, with a look of anger on his face. "I am dead. Because of you!"

_Because of you!_

Eragon awoke in his cot, sitting straight up. A cold sweat covered his entire body, glistening in the moonlight that had managed to sneak into the tent. Oromis' words rang in his head, feeding on his emotions like a parasite.

_It was only a dream_, Eragon thought to himself. However, the dream had confirmed his guilt over Oromis' death. Grabbing a soft gray tunic, he slipped it on and laced up a pair of boots. He quickly arise and strode out into the chill night air. Beside the tent, Saphira lay curled up, fast asleep, tendrils of smoke curling out of her nostrils.

Not wanting to wake her, he turned aside and broke into a light jog, navigating effortlessly through the endless maze of tents camped outside the walls of Feinster. Within minutes, he had reached the outskirts of the camp. Ducking low, he easily evaded the sentries and continued his journey.

Several miles later, he reached his destination: the ocean. Waves lapped softly against the cold sand, over and over. Bending down, Eragon untied his boots and stripped off his socks. He rolled up his pants and stepped into the cold water.

Minutes passed as Eragon stood there, allowing the water to wash over his feet and bury him deeper into the sand. As he stood there, he contemplated the previous few days. No matter how hard he tried, he could not shake the feeling of guilt.

_Maybe if I had been stronger, if I could have defeated Murtagh, maybe they would still be alive,_ he thought.

"It wasn't your fault," came a familiar voice behind Eragon suddenly.

He whipped around to see Arya, arms crossed, standing in the sand behind him. She walked forward until she was standing next to him in the shallow water.

"What do you mean, Arya Svit-kona?" Eragon asked, even though he knew exactly what she was talking about. He was a little frightened that she had been able to read his emotions that easily.

Arya turned and looked at him, her emerald eyes studying his rugged face. "Eragon, I know you well enough to know that you are blaming yourself for their death. It was not your fault," she said after a minute.

Eragon sighed. How was she able to understand him this easily, to read his emotions like an open book? "I know that it was out of my control, but I just can't shake this feeling that I am responsible," Eragon replied, turning his gaze out towards the sea.

Arya nodded at his words, joining him at staring out at the waves. Her face was an emotionless mask, displaying no sign whatsoever of any inner turmoil or conflict. For some reason, this angered Eragon slightly. _She is shutting off her emotions once more,_ he thought, _instead of facing them._

After several minutes of silence, Arya spoke up. "How do you deal with the grief?" she asked in a quiet voice. Her tone suggested that she was not asking for advice, as she already had her own method for dealing with the pain. Instead, it seemed that she wanted to know how Eragon handled his problems.

Eragon shifted his toes in the sand, before responding in a terse voice. "Instead of ignoring my emotions, I force myself to feel the pain. That is what motivates me to face every new day, to fight for those I have lost." After speaking, he turned to look at Arya and noticed a flash of anger in her emerald eyes, and he realized his mistake in becoming angry with her.

"Forgive me, Drottningu," he apologized. "Once again, my words have been unacceptable. I meant no offense." Before she could respond, he continued, "I must take my leave. May the stars watch over you, Arya." With that, he turned and walked away, unwilling to risk an angry tirade from her.

He did not get far before her melodic voice halted him. "If you keep making excuses to leave, I might think that you actually don't like my presence," she said. "I am not angry with you, if you would have let me explain."

He could deny her nothing. Slowly turning, his brown eyes met hers as he returned to his previous position next to her. After several moments, a layer of sand had already accumulated on top of his feet.

"Do you miss them?" Arya asked.

Her directness caught Eragon off guard, and for a few seconds, he was speechless. Finally, he recovered and whispered, "So much."

He turned and found Arya staring at him, as if studying his face. For once, emotion could be discerned upon her face, but Eragon could make no sense of it. It seemed to him like a look of surprise mixed with concern.

"How is it that you remain strong, if you force yourself to feel the pain, instead of blocking it out?" she inquired, referring to his little tirade earlier. She seemed genuinely curious as to how he was able to deal with the grief.

"I have had plenty of practice," Eragon replied bitterly. "Garrow, Brom, Ajihad, Hrothgar, my masters, and soon Murtagh as well."

Arya gave a confused look at him, and so he clarified. "I have done all I can to help him, but none of it made a difference. So now, I am left with one option: to kill my brother."

Arya gently laid a slender hand upon his shoulder. "I am sorry," she whispered.

"Don't be," Eragon said. "It is my fault in the first place. I was the one that brought him to the Varden."

"Eragon, it's not-" Arya began to protest, before he cut her off

"It's okay, Arya. I have reconciled myself with what I must do. You do not need to worry about me," Eragon responded. Arya opened her mouth to respond, but soon closed it, unsure of what to say and allowing silence to envelope the pair.

A cool breeze began to blow in from the sea, dropping the temperature significantly. Next to Eragon, Arya shivered slightly.

Immediately, an internal war began within Eragon. _Should I?_ he thought. His mind kept replaying the scene from the keep, after the slaying of Varaug. Arya had fallen into his arms as she had mourned. Her body seemed to mold perfectly against his, and the sensation was permanently engrained into his memory.

Beside him, Arya shivered again. Finally, he gathered enough courage and lifted his arm, wrapping it around her shoulder to warm her up. Immediately, she stiffened at the contact, but to Eragon's delight, slowly relaxed and made no move to remove his arm. After a minute, she leaned into his side, prompting Eragon to pull her just a little closer.

The pair remained like that for several more minutes, until the first rays of sun began to break the horizon behind them, illuminating the sea in golden light. Finally, Arya disentangled herself from Eragon. "I must return to camp, there is some business that I must attend to," she explained. "I will see you soon, so that we may get started with our plans about the Eldunarya."

Eragon nodded in recognition as she turned to leave. After a few steps, she turned around with a small smile on her face and said, "And Eragon, thank you for tonight."

Eragon retuned the smile and replied, "Any time, Drottningu."


End file.
